


Bad Night

by Qu0t13



Series: Self Care [1]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game), Little Nightmares II - Fandom
Genre: Can be read as The Thin Man is Mono, Can be read as The Thin Man is Mono's parent, Found Family, Gen, Mono deserved better, The Broadcast is alive, The Broadcast is sentient, The Signal Tower is live, The Signal Tower is sentient, The Thin Man adopts Mono Post-Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 04:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30015837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qu0t13/pseuds/Qu0t13
Summary: Mono awakes from a bad dream in the Signal Tower; alone and afraid.Except it wasn't a dream.And he's not alone.
Relationships: Mono & The Broadcast, Mono & The Signal Tower, Mono & The Thin Man (Little Nightmares)
Series: Self Care [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208081
Comments: 40
Kudos: 119





	Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> We're jumping on the bandwagon.

He awoke from the fall and sat bolt up in his bed, a shrill scream still piercing the dead silence of night.

Chest heaving, he struggled to free himself from the blankets swaddling him, weighing him down, pinning him to the too large bed.

His vision was bloated by his jarring awakening, and dimmed by his bangs which hung before his eyes like curtains, blotting out the already dulled light bleeding from the small window just over his headboard.

An uncontrollable shudder plagued his shoulders as he struggled to make sense of his situation.

He stole some frantic, feverish breaths, his throat burning, dry as it was from his cry of panic, as he looked about the room, clenched the blankets he had struggled to free himself from as he fought to convince himself that he was awake...

In his dreams, there was flesh, flesh and eyes, churning, beating with a heart, pursuing like a starved beast as stone cracked, crumbled, splintered and fell all around them.

In his dreams, he ran, he ran like his life depended on it, which, at the time, he thought it had, he ran until he was breathless and trembling with exhaustion, he ran until his lungs burned and his legs begged him to stop.

He didn't stop, he didn't stop because _she_ didn't stop.

But then he had to…

Because she made him…

He still remembered her in vivid detail, their adventure together, across the Pale City, the struggles they went through together, the challenges they faced.

The violence they endured, the terror, the fear they faced…

The cruelty…

He thought the Transmission had changed her, warped her as it did all things. It certainly _looked_ as though it had warped her… With her far, _far_ too large head and spindly horrific arms...

He didn't _know…_

He didn't _know_ she would remember...

But _she_ did…

And she let him _fall._

The scream which broke the night eventually faded from panicked gasps for breath, to a chorus to subdued sniffles as he curled in on himself.

The burning weight of guilt and shame and fury and hatred burned in his chest, searing his small heart the same way a wildfire consumed woodland.

But beneath all of the heat was a cold sorrow.

His small hands tangled in his hair as he hunched forward, a portrait of despair and twisted anguish, his cries grew hoarse and brittle.

And then, over his ragged breaths and wails, a soft, static buzzing began to ring in his ears followed by the sound of floorboards creaking slipping beneath the door.

He sniffled, quieting himself as best he could as he looked towards the door.

The door was tall, far taller than him, fit with an eerie though familiar moniker of an eye, void and hollow, sightless. The wood was well aged but well taken care of, leaving only a few odd gaps between the boards and the frame, one particularly large gap near the bottom right was just wide enough for him to slip through as he pleased.

The gap also allowed light from the hall to always bleed into the room, even in the dead of night.

He watched the shaft of dim light, spilling in through the hallway window, with rapt attention… Waiting for the delicate beam to be disturbed as the static in his skull became more prevalent with every passing moment.

When the light from the hall was finally consumed by the approaching shadow, he felt the tightness in his chest ease…

There was a soft rapt at the door and the quiet sensation of a question;

**A̷w̶a̷k̸e̸?̷**

pressed into the static between them.

He couldn't find his own voice in the static at that moment, when he tried, he ended up choking on a hiccough, but his response, however quiet, was enough to have the knob of the door turning.

The hall was dark, but the constant glow of the dead city bled through the windows, so the hall was brighter than the room, allowing the Thin Man to cast an appropriately thin shadow across the foot of his bed when he opened the door.

Even in the dead of night, the Thin Man wore his clean pressed black suit and hat, he didn't know if the Thin Man had gotten dressed or simply never slept, he knew that the Thin Man had more than the single set of suits and slacks, but he had never seen the Thin Man change either…

He was taken out of his feverish ponderings when the Thin Man bowed low to step into the room, quietly closing the door behind him as he made his way through the threshold.

The buzzing in his head seemed to soften as the Thin Man approached his bedside, he tried to scrub away some of the tears smeared across his cheeks to little avail as the Thin Man slowly lowered himself to the floor.

He sniffled again as a large hand curled around his back.

He shuddered to think of what those hands, or even a single hand, was capable of…

Instead of crushing him, of grabbing him around the middle, of hoisting him off the floor… The Thin Man gently patted his back as he carefully trailed a thumb over his cheeks, the whole thumb nearly larger than his spindly little hand did a much better job at drying his tears…

He stayed still, breathing in through his nose and out through quivering lips, still trembling from the aftershocks of his dream, the Thin Man a silent comfort at his side until his tears ran dry…

The too large thumb then hooked beneath his chin, tilting his head slightly until he was looking up through his bangs towards the long, sunken face of the Thin Man.

The Thin Man bowed close, pressing his lips to where his forehead would be if not for the mop of hair curtaining his eyes. The Thin Man did not kiss him, he merely pressed his still lips to his forehead, the gesture soft, and everything he needed in that moment.

Without thinking or fear, he reached out and looped his small, small arms around the Thin Man's neck, tucking his face into the crook of the Thin Man's throat.

Again, massive, thin hands curled around his back, holding him… The edge of a chin settling against his so small shoulder as a silent, breathless sigh passed through the Thin Man's nose.

Then, slowly, carefully, the Thin Man began to guide him along in a soft rocking motion, back and forth, back and forth, humming a soft tune into his head through the static until he finally stopped shivering…

A while after the Thin Man stopped humming, he tapped a single finger against his shoulder, a question, soft and gentle through the static.

**A̸l̷r̷i̶g̵h̵t̷?̷**

And then, a request.

**L̵e̵a̷v̸e̷?̶**

He shook his head and clung to the Thin Man tighter as he found his voice in the static.

His words ill-tuned and unrefined, more of a garbled mess, but still decipherable.

_**S̶̲̤̮̼̠͗̌̈́̏͛ţ̵̮̙̖̮̄̅͝a̵͕̼̖͈̣̗̫̚͠ỷ̵̞̦̭̗̪̓̀̈́̂̆͜s̴͙̫̯̅̔̊̑̄̏̃͌t̵̹͚̜͐̌͛̆̕ą̷̲̫͗̆̈́͒̏̍̐y̸̲̾̅̿ş̸̤͑ͅt̴̢͔̂̇́̊̅̕͘a̴̛̛͕̘̱̯͕̹̅̀͋͐͜͠y̸̥̼̼͚͂͂̋̿̚s̶̮̳͇̙͈̦̄̒͆͒̎͜͜t̸̢͙͖̗͉̞̟̤̋ͅa̶̻̖̱͚̼̐̽͆͘ỳ̷̪̱̙̻̤͆̅̄́͝͝ś̴̡̝̩͓̫̤͍͍ͅt̷͉̠̘̠̱̰̖̘̋̊̀̊̿͒͗͝å̶̝̼̥͓̂̑̀͜y̶̙̐̌͒͆́̎͊̓͗ŝ̴̤̮̒̈́͗̔̕͝ț̷͍̠̼̯̘̰̾̿̏͆͑̆͘͜ͅa̴͍̘̠͓̟͑̄̓͜ẏ̵̡̡̮̥͍̞͐.̸̛̖̬̯̱̯͈̞̗̇̒̏͛̋͒̚͠** _

Another silent, breathless sigh passed through the Thin Man's chest before the large hand cradling his back carefully scooped him up to the Thin Man's chest as he was lifted from the blankets and pillows.

His bed swallowed him, but the Thin Man dwarfed the bed.

Still, the Thin Man made it work, curling up on his side, his hat hung over the headboard post, an arm tucked beneath the too small pillow that he could hardly lift…

He pressed himself as close as he could to the Thin Man, seeking comfort and warmth against the larger body beside him, a long, thin but still huge arm curled around him, holding him close to the thin, thin chest before him.

Beneath the layers of the suit, and even beneath the soft drone of static… He could hear a mechanical heartbeat, counting a steady, endless rhythm.

Mono allowed himself to drift off, back to a more dreamless sleep, to the sound of static and a mechanical heartbeat…

**Author's Note:**

> Comment plz? We need validation.


End file.
